


Dirty, Torn Levis

by Bunnywest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Nipple Play, stargent senior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 19:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20971598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Chris has worked up a light sweat and his skin has a sheen to it. He’s wearing a ratty singlet, but it’s the jeans that catch John’s attention.They’re a pair of dirty, torn Levi’s, and they mold to Chris’s body in a way that speaks of thousands of hours of wear, soft and worn and perfect.John knows those jeans. He has strong feelings about those jeans, something that Chris is well aware of, after the first time John dragged him inside by his belt loops and blew him right there in the hallway.They’re Chris’sfuck mejeans, and it clicks into place for John that Chris isn’t just here to mow the lawns.





	Dirty, Torn Levis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsRidcully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/gifts).

> Here, have unexpected Kinktober - Day ten - nipple play.
> 
> You can all blame/ thank [MrsRidcully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully) for her comment in discord - "Chris has a pair of ripped Levi's that John has some strong feelings about."

It takes John a full minute to figure out what woke him. He worked late last night and rolled into bed around midnight, so he’s still groggy as he peers at the bedside clock. Noon.

Huh.

He cocks his head, listening, and hears it. The unmistakable sound of a lawnmower. Next door, maybe. He rolls over and contemplates getting up. The mower’s louder now, sounds like it’s coming from his own back yard, and he frowns.

He loves Stiles, but he also knows there’s no way that kid dragged his ass out of bed, left his new husband, and came over to mow John’s lawn on a Sunday afternoon. John knows this because Stiles is an oversharer, and John has heard more than he ever wanted to about what Stiles and Peter do on Sunday afternoons.

It isn’t gardening.

That’s definitely someone mowing his lawns, though. John rubs the grit out of his eyes, hauls himself upright and out of bed, takes a piss, and then pads downstairs, bare foot, shirtless and sleep grizzled, wondering who the hell’s taken note of his neglected yard. Parrish, maybe? He did mention it last week, but John’s been…busy. He smiles to himself at the thought of the man who’s been filling his spare time.

It’s the same man who’s pushing the mower when John opens the flyscreen and peers out into the yard. Of course, he thinks. Only Chris would break into his shed and mow his lawns, because they’re 'friends with benefits' now, and apparently for Argent the benefits include household chores.

John can't deny it – Chris looks damned good. A body that’s all long, lean lines, those muscles, that stubble, sparkling blue eyes, and a devilish grin. Chris raises a hand but doesn’t stop what he’s doing, so John just drinks in the sight before him. Chris has worked up a light sweat and his skin has a sheen to it. He’s wearing a ratty singlet, but it’s the jeans that catch John’s attention.

They’re a pair of dirty, torn Levi’s, and they mold to Chris’s body in a way that speaks of thousands of hours of wear, soft and worn and perfect. As well as the rips in the knees, John knows there’s a patch of fabric right on the crease of the ass that looks like it could give way any minute. Chris turns around to mow another strip of lawn and John’s treated to the sight of that tight, muscled ass temptingly encased in the ready -to-tear denim. His cock twitches.

John _knows_ those jeans. He has strong feelings about those jeans, something that Chris is well aware of, after the first time John dragged him inside by his belt loops and blew him right there in the hallway.

They’re Chris’s _fuck me _jeans, and it clicks into place for John that Chris isn’t just here to mow the lawns. He watches for another minute because he can, and then drags himself inside. He’s going to need coffee for this. Possibly breakfast.

He’ll need the energy.

He’s just finishing up his cereal and coffee when strong arms wrap around him from behind and the sweet aroma of fresh-cut grass hits his nostrils, mixed with the tang of man-sweat. “Hey, baby,” Chris growls in his ear.

John spins in Chris’s grip and pulls him in for a filthy kiss, heedless of the dirt and sweat. “Hell of a thing to wake up to,” he mumbles into Chris’s collarbone, where he’s buried his face. He lets his hands slide over Chris’s deliciously taut ass and gives a firm squeeze. “You know what these do to me.”

Chris puts on his most innocent face, the one John doesn’t trust for a second. “Don’t know what you mean. I just wanted to take care of that damned lawn for you.”

John huffs out a laugh. ”Sure. You’re a regular Mother Theresa.”

The skin around Chris’s eyes crinkles when he grins. “Okay. Maybe it’s not just the lawn that needs taking care of.”

John raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? You trying to get me into bed, Argent?”

Chris leans in closer so his breath’s hot on John’s neck, murmuring, _“Hell, yes.”_

John tightens his grip on Chris’ ass, pulls his hips in tight against him so their bodies are flush. “I guess I could be persuaded.”

Really, John thinks to himself, he’s a grown-ass man. A trained law enforcement professional. He shouldn’t be so damn turned on by the way Chris can lift him effortlessly, by the way he carries John upstairs, legs wrapped around Chris’s waist. 

Just try telling that to his dick.

* * *

John’s bed is still unmade, a jumble of blankets and pillows, but Chris doesn’t seem to care, laying John out, stripping out of his grass-stained singlet and kicking off his boots before laying down next to him.  
He keeps the jeans on though, because the man’s a damned tease. John rolls over on his side and undoes the buttons and zip, sliding a hand inside.

No underwear. “Hoping I’d put out, huh?” he teases.

“You always put out,” Chris says with a grin, which. Point.

But John was single a lot of years before this whatever-the-hell with Chris started, so he figures he’s just making up for lost time. “Damn straight, because you make it good,” he shoots back.

Chris throws back his head and laughs. He extracts John’s hand from his waistband and moves it to over John’s head, presses him into the mattress. “I’ll make it good this time, too. Now relax. I’m gonna take my time, treat you right.”

John lets out a happy sigh, closes his eyes, and settles back. Whatever Chris does, John knows he’ll enjoy it- Chris is just that talented with his hands and mouth. They don’t fuck often, don’t have the stamina of youth or the instant healing of werewolves, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have scorching hot sex. John hums in appreciation as Chris kisses and licks down the side of his neck, stubble making tiny scritching noises as it rubs against his skin. Chris takes it as encouragement and works his way down John’s bare chest, stopping to drag a calloused thumb over a nipple, making John’s breath catch. “Oh ho, you like that?” Chris asks, like he isn’t aware, like he doesn’t tease John like this every chance he gets.

John can only manage ‘uh huh’ – words are a struggle right now, all his focus on the way his cock’s throbbing and filling. Chris rubs his thumb across the peaked nub again, drawing a gasp. Then there’s wet heat and teeth tugging on his flesh, and John arches up into the touch. Chris chuckles against his skin and does it again, pulling at John’s other nipple with one hand, pinching and teasing at the tight bud until John lets out a sound that he’ll deny till his dying day is a squeal.

“That’s it, let me hear you,” Chris growls out, and pinches again, making John writhe under his touch and hiss between his teeth. Chris covers one nipple with his mouth completely and _sucks,_ a firm unyielding pressure that makes all John’s nerve endings light up like a Christmas tree. Chris moves so that his body’s angled across John's, holding him down, and his toned abs rub against the soft fabric of John’s sleep pants where he’s rock hard. John tries to thrust up, get some more friction, but he can’t quite manage it. Chris seems intent on ignoring his efforts, more interested in pulling his mouth away and then circling the extra sensitive flesh with the very tip of his tongue, tracing delicate lines. When he ghosts a thumb over the nipple again, John can’t help the full body shudder he gives. Chris rolls the tip between his fingers, tugs lightly, and lets go. John whines at the loss.

Chris doesn’t let him suffer though, quick to give the other side the same treatment, sucking and touching and pulling until both nipples are red and puffy and John can’t hold back the gasps and groans, doesn’t even try. His chest is on fire, and he knows tomorrow his uniform will make it hurt in the best way every time the fabric rubs against the abused flesh

He’s looking forwards to it.

For now though, he resumes his attempts to get some friction on his needy cock, muttering, “Come on Chris,” reaching down and grabbing at the waist of those fucking jeans. 

Chris grinds down against him and finally lifts his mouth from John’s chest, his mouth red and plush. “You want my hands or my mouth, baby?”

“Hands.” John doesn’t even hesitate. Chris has big, broad palms that he knows will wrap around him just right, jerk him off slow and easy and oh so good. Chris lifts his weight off John long enough to tug his sleep pants down and shuck his own jeans off, and then he’s back on top of him, pressing their hard lengths together as he kisses John hungrily. John feels the slickness of precome easing the way, rolls his own hips in response, and gets a thrill of satisfaction at the groan he draws out of Chris. Then there’s a hand in front of his face, and John doesn’t think twice about licking it, getting it good and wet for what he knows is coming. The hand slips between them, engulfing both their cocks, Chris's movements smooth and practiced.

The arousal that’s been buzzing under John’s skin roars to the surface and his hips jerk up, suddenly desperate. Chris must sense his urgency because his strokes speed up. John doesn’t want slow and easy now, no. He needs hard and fast and just this side of too rough.

Chris gives it to him.

It barely takes a minute before John’s grunting, fucking up into Chris’s hand and coming so hard he thinks he might have blacked out, or seen the face of god or something.

Chris’s hand is moving faster now, and more wetness gets added to the mess on John’s belly when Chris comes with a strangled noise, hand slowing then stopping, still holding both their softening cocks. He drops his head into the curve of John’s neck, panting lightly. 

John reaches around and runs a hand down Chris’s back, just to make him shudder. Chris is incredibly sensitive all over after sex and John takes shameless advantage of it, walking his fingertips across Chris’s lower back in order to see him twitch.

Chris rolls off him, squirming away. “Ticklish,” he complains as he bats at John’s hands, but he’s grinning.

John shrugs. “Payback for waking me up,” he says, before skating his fingertips over Chris’s ribs and making him let out a sound that Chris will probably deny later was a squeal.

But it absolutely was.


End file.
